


Nothing Special

by cunningErebus (ElfieRae)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins, Angst and Humor, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, Bloodplay, Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Guns, M/M, Nudity, Sadstuck, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Swords & Fencing, Violence, blackrom to redrom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfieRae/pseuds/cunningErebus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not everyday that you wake up with gun in your mouth.</p><p>You are not surprised as you’re sure the other occupant of your room expects you to be. This isn’t the first time you’ve woken to find something in your mouth. You’re just thankful it’s not plush phallus. You lift your eyes up to meet those of your assailant, his candy-red orbs glaring into your slightly darker ones. And here you thought you had gotten rid of this shit-stain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> Wake up

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Finally completed the first part! Not sure how long this is going to be, but it keeps getting longer the most I right. Hopefully I caught all the typos! This be the first thing I’ve written for Homestuck so~ hopefully you guys like it ^_^ Enjoy! thanks CC for betaing! <3  
> also, sorry about the formatting, this place seems to not like it :c

 

It’s not everyday that you wake up with gun in your mouth. 

You are not surprised as you’re sure the other occupant of your room expects you to be. This isn’t the first time you’ve woken to find something in your mouth. You’re just thankful it’s not plush phallus. You lift your eyes up to meet those of your assailant, his candy-red orbs glaring into your slightly darker ones. And here you thought you had gotten rid of this shit-stain. 

Of course you’re more surprised, now that you think about it, that there’s not a sickle --his weapon of choice-- curled against your throat. But you expect that’s simply because it wouldn’t have been enough to wake you up.

“ ‘ut  uh ‘ _uck_ ‘err ‘ou ‘ooing ‘ere, ‘an’as?”

“What the _fuck_ are you mumbling about, fuckhead?” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s annoyed; hell, you can’t remember an encounter with him in which he wasn’t. Annoyed was this douchenut’s normal state. Any variation other than ‘pissed off’ would scare the shit out of you. You callously let your eyes drift down to the gun still pressed against your tongue, the flavor of which isn’t pleasant, just as you expected.

Karkat lets out an aggrivated growl, which is to say that the noise would be a growl if it weren't for the soft clicks that accompanied the rumble in his chest (it always reminds you of the sound the Predator made in that shitty action movie, or a cat growling with a cicada stuck in its throat), before he pulls the end of his Beretta from your mouth. You shut it quickly, but not before scraping the length of your tongue roughly against your teeth in an attempt to get the flavor of gunpowder off of your taste-buds. You sit up while you do this so that you’re leaning on your forearms.

“Now what the hell were you babbling on about, Strider?”

The gun is still aimed at your head, so you’re forced to look down the end of the barrel up at him, much to your annoyance. You don’t bother to answer just yet. Instead, you casually reach for your shades, which are sitting on the night stand beside you where you had set them when you laid down. You slip them on. As they settle against the bridge of your nose, you can see Karkat’s brow twitch, his patience with your silence running thin. Your lips curl up slightly, pleased that you’re already getting to him.

“I said; what the fuck are you doing here disturbing my beauty sleep. Can’t expect to be any good if I don’t get my six to eight hours of sleep. Might as well look like you-”

He’s got the gun pressed against your lips again, holding them closed lest you care to indulge yourself in another gunpowder tongue-bath. “I didn’t ask for any of that asinine gibberish. If you haven’t figured out why I’m here yet, then you’ve obviously managed to lose what little intelligence you had left in that thick think-pan of yours.”

You push yourself up into more of a sitting position, which happens to pull you away from the end of his gun. “Lemme guess. Terezi sent you, didn’t she?”

“Is it really that fucking hard to believe I could find you on my goddamned own?”

You release a soft snort of a chuckle. “Yes.”

He growls again and steps up closer to you, his thumb flicking the safety off.

“Did you really have the safety on this whole time?” You're amused. Of course he did. And, as you expected, this pisses him off more. You half expect him to push the gun against your mouth again, but instead he lowers it, aiming it at your junk. Oh. Shit just got serious. No one threatens your goods without bringing a Strider shit-storm down upon themselves.

Of course, he really doesn’t have the upper hand here and you both know it. You could easily retrieve one of your many weapons from either one of your strife specibi (your blade specibus was a fucking bitch to fix; Harley had insisted upon being the one to teach you how to use pretty much every type of gun she could get her hands on, but nothing beat your skill with blades. You couldn’t just let those years of training or the satisfaction of kicking some one's ass personally go to waste) and you could always reach for the one sword you always kept out, for ironic reasons, of course. It’s not but half an arm-length away from you, where it always is.

And of course, Karkat knows all of this, which is exactly why you can feel a subtle pinching against the base of your penis where he’s pressing a little harder than necessary. A silent warning for you to not try anything. “Alright. I get it. Can you lay the fuck off my cock for a second. Jesus. I know you want it, but you’ll have to get in line.”

He releases an over-exasperated groan. “I don’t want your stupid flaccid meatrod, you festering waste-sack.” He eases up just a little bit and his thumb moves back up to the safety. “Fucking hell, I don’t know why the hell I’m even bothering with this shit,” he mumbles to himself, even though you can hear him perfectly, which he’s aware of since you’re only just a few feet away from him. “I actually came here to - _fuck_ \- to-”

“Spit it the fuck out already. I don’t have all day to lay here and have my junk threatened by you, you incompetent tool.”  You really don’t. You could be eating breakfast by now, never mind that it’s nearing dusk, or beating the shit out of a bunch of preteens via the latest gaming console; or better yet, you could still be sleeping instead of waiting on this moron to get to the fucking point.

“Fuck. You. I am.” He shifts on his feet before flicking the safety back on his gun and pulling it away from your body by a few inches. “Your stupid fuckface isn’t helping make this any easier.”

“Make what any easier?” You’re losing your patience with him even faster now that you’re awake and your bladder is screaming at you to empty it.

Karkat releases another annoyed growl, which is accompanied by the sharp clicking sound that changes octaves with his breathing. “God _damnit_. I need your fucking help.”

You barely contain the want to laugh, but you can’t keep the smirk from curling on your lips. “Really?”

And just like that the barrel of the gun is once again pressed against your skin, safety off. Though instead of pointing it at anything important to your extracurricular activities, it’s pressed against the soft skin under your chin and you're graced with a face full of Karkat.

“I will fucking shoot you and leave.” 

“Then get on with it. At least I wouldn’t have to look at your stupid nook face, or whatever the hell that alien shit-hole of yours is called, and actually get some sleep.” You press down against the barrel of the gun just to shove your point in his face. You can feel his breath puffing hotly against your lips. To counter he cocks the gun, even though it’s already cocked, seeing as it was semi-automatic. He would do some stupid cliche shit like that. When you respond with a knowing snort, he growls again, the clicks sounding more like a kitten happily purring while chewing on gravel. 

Karkat jerks away a second later and turns his back to you, growling loudly. This time he sounds more like a Flintstone’s vitamins bottle that a kid trying to open and failing to do so, the clicks are so high-pitched. “You’re fucking impossible! _NotthatIthoughtyouwouldn’tbe_ , but it’s useless trying to even talk to your incompetent ass!” 

“For fuck’s sake, Vantas.” You’re now throwing your covers off yourself and placing your feet on the floor. Fuck this childish bullshit; you’re going to take a piss while you wait on his pussy ass to spit out whatever the fuck it is he interrupted your well-earned sleep for. 

“Where the _fuck_ are you going?” Karkat turns around when you walk past him, clearly alarmed that you’re simply going to walk out on him regardless of the fact that you’re only in your boxer-briefs. 

“Gonna take a piss. Gotta problem with that?” you say over your shoulder before you disappear past the threshold of the bathroom, the tiles cold against your bare feet. You don’t bother shutting the door even as footsteps draw closer to you. 

He stops just beside the door and tucks his gun into the back of his jeans before leaning against the wall. You can see his shoulder poking out into the doorway. “You gonna ever get to the fucking point? I know my walking around mostly naked is highly distracting to your thought proce-”

“Oh my _god_! Will you stop flapping your lips at me already!” He turns his head so that he can glare at you from over his shoulder (and around the edge of the doorway) while you tuck yourself back into your underwear and flush the toilet.

You snort but decide to keep quiet for a moment, at least while you walk over to the sink to wash your hands, after which you comb your fingers through your hair to smooth out the mess the pillow made of it. When he still hasn’t continued on, you let him know that you’ll keep your comments to yourself for now. 

“I’m listening.” You stare at his profile in the mirror, watching as he looks straight ahead of himself at nothing in particular, brows creased down more than normal. He’s obviously lost in thought. When you reach for your toothbrush and paste, he turns to look at you and you manage to catch a hint of worry in his eyes. It’s not uncommon for Karkat to be worried about this or that, but for him to actually allow someone see it means that it’s serious. 

“I swear to fucking god.” Karkat turns his head again when you turn around to face him and you start to brush your teeth. “Could you at least put some fucking pants on or something?” 

“I ‘idn’t kno’ ‘ou ‘elt ‘at way abou’ me, ‘arkles.” You manage around the foam in your mouth. He gives you the bird and you chuckle. You have a perfect retort to the gesture but since your mouth is currently occupied you’re sadly forced to pass on the opportunity. 

You head out into the room and chance another glance at your uninvited guest when you pass him by again. He lets out a huff and crosses his arms over his chest. He shuts his eyes, but not until after you catch the swooping glance of those red irises at your ass before gray lids hide them. 

You bend down by your suitcase, which is set on the provided luggage rack, to dig out a pair of jeans. You had to toss your suit pants from the night before after the dipshit you were hired to take out decided to tear them to shreds. You can afford another pair no problem. Besides, it’s a living and it sure as hell beats out the salary you get when you actually manage to land a DJ’ing gig. Doing anything else would bore the fuck out of you; you might as well be doing something you’re fuckin’ pro at.

“Since you’re finally fucking quiet I guess I’ll get to the fucking point.” Karkat’s voice breaks the silence in the room and you’re thankful for it since it blocks out the song that was trying its damnedest to get stuck in your head --fuck no, you can’t, and wont, be tamed. 

You toss a glance at him from over your shoulder, your toothbrush poking out from between your lips while your hands are occupied. He rolls his eyes, then continues talking. “These ‘people’.” He makes quotes in the air with his fingers, denoting the fact that the _beings_ in question are either or both of your species; he’s obviously not sure. 

“They took Sollux,” he pauses when you stand up with a pair of jeans in your hand, your head tilted slightly to the side, “ _and_ Tavros--” 

Your shoulders drop in a clear statement of: ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

“Hey! Shut the fuck up! You weren’t there! How in the fucking hell was I supposed to know there was going to be more than just a handful of them!” His voice cracks a few times while he shouts and you nearly wince at the sound of it. He doesn’t need to say anything else. You’ll help.

You shrug, regardless, and head back into the bathroom to finish up brushing your teeth. There’s more than enough toothpaste now sitting in your mouth; any more and you’re going to start dribbling like a toddler. You toss up the handle to turn on the water and quickly spit into the sink then rinse off your toothbrush as he starts talking again. “ _Anyway_. I can’t take on fifty of these guys on my own. That’s the only reason I need _your_ help,” you can hear the disdain in his voice, “you insufferable prick.” There was clearly a pause between the insult and the statement, Karkat apparently feeling as though he hadn’t insulted you enough in the last few minutes.

“Please tell me you didn’t come here without some kind of fucking plan. Do you at least know where the hell they’re being held?” You ask the two most obvious questions that pop into you mind while you tug on your jeans. 

“Of course I fucking know!” Karkat pushes off the wall and turns to face you completely. “I’m not a fucking indolent nubgrubbler, you incompetent festering fuckbump. I wouldn’t have come here to waste my precious fucking time talking to you if I didn’t.” 

“Then what?” You glance up at him from over the top rim of your shades as you do up your jeans. “We’re sure as hell not just walking the fuck right into wherever the hell they’re being held. I’m not going to build my goddamned coffin and nail it closed from the inside too.” 

“No shit, Sherlucky.” 

You manage to resist the urge to facepalm. “Sherlock, you dumbshit. Sher _lock_.” 

“Whatthefuckever. I could care less about your fucking fictional private legislacerators. The-” 

“Investilacegator,” you groan and then quickly correct yourself,  “Investigators.”  

Karkat click-growls at you again and cranks up the volume on his voice. “The point is! I need to know if you’re in or if I’m just here wasting my time and breath talking to your repugnant visage.” 

“Because it’s always a pleasure to wake up to your unbearable bitchface.” You walk up to the doorway and rest your forearms against either side of the frame. Karkat is now forced to look up at you, which annoys the shit out of him since he’s nearly a head and a half shorter than you.

He steps right up into your personal bubble without a single hesitation, his ears laying back flat against his head, his pupils dilated, fucking shark teeth bared. “God, get your fuckin’ panties out of your ass.” You snort in amusement when the muscles in his arms twitch with the want to reach back and grab his gun again.

“Look, fuckass.” He narrows his eyes and arches up on his toes to level the distance between you. “I didn’t want to fucking come here and talk to you, you bubbling pile of nook sludge. But you’re the only goddamned thing I can trust right now that won’t turn his back on me the first chance he gets when he gets in over his bone-encased mush heap.” 

For Karkat, that was a huge fucking complement. You suppose you should feel ‘special’ since he knows you well enough to know that you won’t turn your back on a partner. Temporary or not. “Right. As if I won’t be the one to bail your impotent ass out of the horseshit you’re about to bury us both in.”

“Fuck. You.” He  pushes himself closer and you can hear the aggravation in his voice--not that it wasn’t there already, but now he’s not bothering to try and pretend that you’re not getting to him. “Are you going to fucking help me or not, you incompetent globesack?” 

“You’re a fucking imbecile. You know that, right?” You arch a brow and push off from the doorway, bumping right into Karkat and knocking him to the side so you can grab some socks and a shirt from your suitcase. “I haven’t kicked your worthless shitscribbling ass out, have I?” 

He throws his hands up and releases a frustrated shout, heading for the door to your hotel room. “Then get the fuck dressed. We’re leaving.”

“Right now?” 

“Yes. Right the fuck now.” He stops at the foot of your bed and turns around to look at you. “What the fuck did you think we were going to do? Sit with our various opposable appendages up our waste canals?”

“Isn’t that what you usually do?” You retort immediately.

You’re tackled to the floor by a stocky alien cannon ball faster than you had anticipated. 

And here you had just managed to get the gunpowder taste off your tongue. 


	2. ==> Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two :D Almost done with three now. Sorry it took so long to update >.

“Fuck. Can we stop and get me some fucking food?” You shift in your seat and pause drumming out the beat in your head on the steering wheel so you can  flip the turn signal on. You glance out of the corner of your eyes at Karkat, who is sitting in the passenger’s seat with his arms crossed over his chest, his lower lip is sticking out a little, and he’s glaring out of the window. “Also, stop fucking pouting like a toddler. There’s no pouting in my car.”   
  
“No. Fuck off.”  
  
You would have smirked at that if he was actually looking at you. You’re more than amused that Karkat is pouting over the fact that you didn’t take _his_ car. And why would you? There is no way in hell you’d be seen riding around in a Honda; it’s not even ironically funny.   
  
“I will turn this car around, kiddo. I’m not kidding.” You make the turn as soon as the light’s green.  
  
“Are you going to shut up for two goddamned seconds so I can think of what we’re going to fucking do when we get there?”   
  
“Nope. Sorry, champ. I lose the ability to keep my lips together for more than a second when there is no food present in front of me and my stomach’s empty, and also when I feel the need to pester certain adolescent sour- _pussies_ such as yourself.” You resume drumming your fingers against the wheel. “You know what, I think I can feel my stomach starting to eat itself. ” You pause for effect. “Yup. I think part of it just slipped into my small intestine. Maybe if I start chewing on my tong-”   
  
“Alright!” He throws his hands up into the air and turns to shout in your direction.  “Oh my fucking god! Just shut the _fuck_ up already!” His face is a little red from how hard he’s screeching at you. You resist the urge to laugh at how ridiculous he sounds and the fact that there’s color in his usually grey cheeks.  
  
Instead, you simply hold up one finger. “Also, no yelling at the driver.”   
  
“Like I _give a shit_!” Karkat shouts as he returns to his half-slouched position, arms crossed against his chest, head turned to face the window. “Just go to that putrid Ol’ Mack Donalds place or whatever the fuck it’s called.”   
  
“Oh my god, get it right. _Mc_ Donalds” you correct him with a near roll of your eyes. Of course he couldn’t care less to learn the ‘ _human shit_ ’ (as he so eloquently puts it), but you were expected to learn all the ‘troll shit’. That doesn’t stop you from purposely saying everything wrong just to piss him off.   
  
“It’s all _garbage_ , if you ask me.” He’s pouting again.  
  
“No one asked you.”  
  
You make another turn, but this one is sharp and unexpected which causes Karkat to be thrown against the door.   
  
“Learn to fucking drive!”   
  
You don’t bother replying to him, since you turned your Mustang (which _is_ ironic, considering you could afford an Aston Martin if you wanted to instead of a ‘poor man’s sports car’) into the drive-thru; and trying to order over a screaming fucknut is the fastest way to be asked to leave the line or get you shitty service, which is worse than being forced to eat at a restaurant that caters to the trolls. Their weird-ass food always manages to make human food taste funny to you when they’re prepared near one another. Good thing McDonald's boasts a ‘no troll’ policy regarding the items on their menu.   
  
It only takes you a minute to order your meal (you get the same thing every time), which you are forced to do over Karkat clicking in annoyance beside you. Once you pay and pull up to the second window to retrieve your food --the woman there blushing when you give her a saucy smirk as she hands you your drink-- you lean out the window a little. “Can I get a bib?” You gesture over your shoulder with your thumb and she ducks down to look in the car. She nods, giggling, which clues Karkat into the fact that you’re doing something he’s obviously going to hate.   
  
“Here’s your bib, sir.”   
  
“Oh, fuck you, shitball!” He shoves you, which isn’t very effective since you’re buckled into your seat and you laugh.   
  
“ _That_ was the shittiest insult I’ve ever heard you use, Karkles. Where’s that superior intellect of yours? Lose it on the way here? Hm?” You leave a beat of silence between you both, more than enough time for Karkat to spit out some frivolous word vomit before you add; “oh, that’s right. You never had any to begin with.”   
  
“Fuck. _You_ , you gangrenous fucktool. As soon as we’re done with this asinine, temporary partnership, I’m kicking your fucking scrawny ass back to the void.”  
  
You chuckle softly while shifting your arm, bag of food in hand, back into the car. “Yeah, yeah.” You pull forward heading for the road with one hand on the wheel, the other working the bag open and digging out a large pinch of fries which you pop into your mouth immediately. “ _Fuckyes_ ,” you groan.  
  
Karkat glances down into the bag and promptly turns up his nose. “That smells like something a hoofbeast would shit out.”   
  
“I can’t hear you over the sound of all the fucks I don’t give right now.” You toss another couple of fries into your mouth. “Which way, Vantas?” You turn to look at him, the nose of your car nearly poking out into the busy evening traffic.  
  
He glances both ways before leaning forward in the seat in an attempt to get a better look. “Left.” He flops back against the seat which creaks with the force of his body.  
  
“Break my fucking seat and you’re buying me a new car.” You make the turn and cut off a few people in the process before you’re cruising comfortably in the fast lane.   
  
“Like hell I am.” He glances towards you, then down at your hand which is in the bag digging out, and expertly unwrapping,your double cheese burger.   
  
“Don’t tell me you’ve already spent all money you’ve made-” you cut yourself off by taking a large bite of the burger.   
  
“Who the _fuck_ do you think I am? Of course not!” He leans over a little and reaches into the bag to steal a few of the fries like you knew he would. No one can resist the golden arches. No one. You smirk around the bite you’re currently chewing.   
  
“Turn ‘ere.” Karkat speaks around the mouthful of fries, his arm now in your way while he points. “Turn! Turn!”   
  
“I am fuckin’ turning!”   
  
You manage to make the sudden turn which takes you to a on-ramp for the freeway. “Jesus Christ on a unicycle. You could have warned me instead of shoving your stubby finger in my face.”  
  
You slam your foot on the gas, forcing your hemi-engine to purr to life, and your car jumps forward, the momentum pushing you both back into your seats. A surge of adrenaline pushes through your system and causes a sharp pulse of pleasure to wash over you. You want to close your eyes and press the gas down even more, but you keep yourself from doing so, if only for the fact that Karkat would protest against you driving with your eyes closed--‘Are you _**fucking stupid?!**_ ’ You easily catch up to the pace of the other vehicles in this lane.  
  
“Fuckoff. How the hell was I supposed to know that the turn was _right_ fucking there?”   
  
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe use those fucking glimpsing globes of yours?”   
  
“ _Ganderbulbs_ , you fucking imbecile.”   
  
You keep your mouth shut, mostly because it’s full with another bite of your burger (hey, you were telling the truth; when you have food, you’re pretty fucking quiet). You work your way over into one of the faster moving lanes in the middle, since you’re not sure when Karkat is going to shout at you to turn again. You hit the cruise control and pull your foot off the petal so you can relax a little while you finish what’s left of your burger.  
  
The sun is setting ahead of you, lighting up the expanse of the city laid out to your right; a mixture of human and troll architecture. After having been in the void for what felt like an eternity, you can never get enough of sights like this. You missed the sun and despite the fact that you tend to be more nocturnal these days, you still find time to enjoy the warmth of it. It’s not quite the same as it was on earth, but nothing ever will be and you know it; even if the game made you ‘feel’ as though you’d lived here you’re whole life, you _know_ better. You all do. At least... those of you who are left.  
  
But you don’t want to think about that right now.  
  
You let your mind drift back towards the dream you were having that had been so _pleasantly_ interrupted. You were going to kill Terezi when you see her. You had gotten a room in the upper-class part of the city after having scuffled in the slums the past few days. You fucking deserved it, goddamnit, and here Karkat was dragging you right back to to the place you didn’t want to see for at _least_ another week.  
  
“Will you tell me where the fuck we’re going now?” You turn your head long enough to look at him, both hands back on the wheel now that your finished eating you burger. He’s chewing up the last bits of some more fries that he stole from you.   
  
“It’s somewhere near the water.”  The emotion his voice is foreign against your ears. If you didn’t know any better you would have mistaken that sadness and pain (you clearly heard) for indifference. But no. You know all too well exactly what he’s going through right now--possibly enough to pity him, especially since a small ache is making itself known in your chest. (You force it down.) Hell, you even managed to fool yourself into being okay at this point.   
  
“ _Somewhere?_ ” You scoff and reach for a few fries. “I thought you said you fucking knew where they’re being held?” Of course the little punk has eaten most of them, so you snatch up the last few crunchy ones. Good thing those are your favorite, otherwise you might have had to choke a big booty bitch.  
  
“I know _where_! Just not which building!” There’s the Karkat you know and love. You sure did miss him there for a second.   
  
“Alright, fuck.” You toss a floppy fry from the bottom of the bag at him, hitting him in the cheek. He turns to level you with a glare while picking up the fry. “So what’s the plan, Stan?”   
  
“Who the _fuck_ is Stan?” he snaps, tossing the fry into his mouth, his shark-like teeth making quick work of the fried vegitable.   
  
You roll your eyes this time. “Nevermind. _Just_ tell me what sort of exceptionally deficient plan you superior intellect came up with this time.”   
  
A low rumble rolls through his chest and you can feel him looking at you. “It’s two exits away, asshole.” Karkat turns to face the window once again. “And I don’t have a fucking plan you prick,” he mumbles under his breath.   
  
Of course he didn’t.  
  
But neither do you.   
  
“Of course you don’t.” You can’t be bothered with flipping on your turn signal before sliding over into the lane to your right; the exit is coming up soon. You’ve always just kinda-sorta of rolled with what you were given anyway. But that’s not the point here.  
  
You sigh and cut your eyes towards him. “Just get me there. I’ll think of something to bail your rancid load-gaper out of all this.” You quickly merge onto the off ramp then make a right turn at the red-light at the end of the ramp, heading towards the warehouses that are speckled along the horizon in front of you.  
  
“Fuck you, Strider.” He turns to look at you again but there’s a distinct lack venom in his glare. A chill trickles down the back of your neck causing the hairs to stand up.   
  
You’ve got a bad feeling about this and Karkat’s unease is actually starting to get to you a little, even if you don’t show it. You’d never show it.   
  
“We’ll get to that later, but it’s good to know some of our options.” 


	3. ==> Survey the area

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action chapter :D This one was only looked over by me a few times so hopefully I caught all the typos! Now to start on Chapter 4 \ o / hope you guys like this one!

“What the fuck is with all the goddamned boxes. I can’t see shit.” Karkat growls under his breath while attempting to lean forward a little more.   
  
“You’re welcome to walk down there and just ask one of those big ass dudes with the weapons; ‘Man, that sure is a really nice weapon you got there. Can I see that more up close? Oh hey! You don’t happen to know if you’re holding one of my best friends hostage? Also this little pussy-twerp in a chair with wheels?’ ” You’re crouched beside Karkat on the roof of an adjacent building to the one you’re currently looking at. You both already know that this is the right place because: why the hell else would there be _heavily_ armed guards just outside the doors to a supposed antiquities importer? There’s no doubt in your mind that the owner of the building is importing more than just unearthed ancient treasures; but that’s not why you’re here.  
  
“I think that’s the best fucking plan that I’ve ever heard in my _entire **fucking** existence_.” He turns to look at you, his red eyes narrowed in the ever dimming light, they look like they’re glowing. “Why don’t you just pop the fuck down there and ask them yourself?!” His voice cracks a little with how hard he’s trying to keep himself from shouting. The fact that he is trying to be quiet and nearly failing would be amusing to you if it weren’t for the fact that it would give you both away if he _did_ shout.   
  
“Can you at least see any _movement_ inside?” Of course you could see better yourself if you took your shades off, but fuck that shit. Instead, you simply glance over the top rim of them and arch a brow up at what you _can_ see in the fading light. You know that Karkat can see better in the growing darkness than you could ever hope to anyway.  
  
He quickly turns back to look at the building. “Yeah, I can see movement.” The annoyance in his voice is thick.  
  
“That’s all I need to know.” You state. You turn around, plop down on your ass and then start to flip through your sylladex.  
  
He glances down at you then looks back over the ledge at the building. “What in the fucking hell are you doing?”   
  
“Lookin’ for something to cause a distraction.” Your mind is working a mile a minute while you imagine how each small scenario you can think of would turn out. You’d gotten used to trying to prevent alternate timeline deaths that you can’t go into a planned battle without doing it, and this definitely calls for it. Of course you retained  some of your God Tier powers so could you simply just hop back in time, but you tend to forget you have them most of the time. Plus keeping up with all the stable time loops is more than a little annoying when you have your entire life to work with instead of just the inner-workings of the time frame inside a game.  
  
“Oh.” He sounds surprised, which doesn’t surprise you.   
  
“Isn’t this why you begged me to help?” You glance up over the edge of your shades at him.  
  
“I didn’t fucking- oh fuck you, you arrogant shit-stain.” He click-growls at you and you can’t help but smirk in satisfaction. He hadn’t insulted you in the last fifteen minutes and things were starting to feel a little weird because of it.   
  
“Here.” You toss him a small bundle of firecrackers which he catches.   
  
“The fuck these for?” He glances down at his hands, then looks back up at you. You’re pretty sure he has no idea what _these_ even are; trolls didn’t have fireworks. Thank god you keep a bunch of useless shit in your sylladex for these kind of situations; you never know when you’re going to need it.  
  
You deadpan. “Really?” Shaking your head, you shift so that you’re crouching again, facing Karkat. “Look, here’s the plan.”  
  
As soon as those words slip from your mouth you have his undivided attention and he’s turned to face you completely.   
  
\- -  
  
“Stop moving.” You whisper harshly when Karkat shifts on his feet again. He growls at you and you can feel the air when it slips past his lips and fans against yours, you’re so close. Of course you hadn’t expected the space to be so small but you’re both already right here, there’s no changing the plan now, you’ve wasted too much time. This hadn’t been your first choice in ‘hiding’ spots, but the other wasn’t in the right spot for your plan to work.  
  
He’s getting impatient with waiting but if you’ve learned one thing since you arrived on this planet, it’s that you can’t always just rush into a fight; Especially not with two trolls who are nearly three times the size of the both of you put together. You’ve taken down bigger but Karkat isn’t as agile or as fast as you are, and you’re here to watch his back. Sure he’s gotten better over the years, and a little more confident that what his clumsy ass used to be, but he’s still not been through nearly half the shit that you have.  
  
Actually, you doubt that anyone has been through a _quarter_ of the shit you have. But that’s only because you have a few more years of experience under your belt with all the time traveling you’ve done. _Officially_ you’re the same age as Karkat (8 sweeps, or 18 years) but in reality you’re closer to a good three years older if you count the time that Davesprite was in the game before he back tracked, as well as all your time hopping around inside the game before your forced merge with him upon entering _this_ world (there couldn’t be two of you running around). The pain that he went through was added to yours, and you tend to hold it all a little to close to your heart.  
  
“They’re going to be fucking dead by the time we finally get our appendages out of our waste shoots.” He clicks between the words making it sound as though they’re popping like pop-rocks on the back of his tongue.   
  
“Alright, Just take your fucking impatience down a few goddamn notches; you’re cranked up to ‘crack-head two days past needing a fix’. And stop fucking clickin’ at me.” You glare at him over the rim of your shades (which are pushed down off the bridge of your nose for the moment so you can see better) and release an quick, heavy breath. You stiffen a second later when feel your breath brush against you lips again.   
  
Of course this only causes him to click louder and you can _feel_ it vibrating along your skin. And maybe it causes goosebumps to rise on your neck, and maybe, _just maybe_ , it causes your heart to speed up a little. You push your shades back up to cover your eyes. He’s a little too close for comfort at the moment.  
  
You finally let your patience slip.   
  
“Hold ‘em up.” You nod toward the firecrackers in his hand, your tone is a little clipped. His clicking abruptly stops and you can feel your nerves calm a little in response before his hand is being shoved against your chest with unnecessary force. “Jesus, fuck,” you grunt and take them from him despite the fact that you’re just going to be handing them right back. Idiot.  
  
Shifting so that you’re leaning back against the wall, you quickly decaptchalogue your own set of firecrackers. You glance up at Karkat through your shades when you feel his eyes on you, watching every movement you make with controlled interest. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You tighten your jaw and release a slow breath.  
  
It only takes you a second to quickly light the wicks with your lighter once you dig it out of your pocket. You hand him back his bundle. A short nod is exchanged between the two of you, Karkat looking more determined than you’ve ever seen him, before you both shoot straight up and throw the small bundles of fireworks toward each of the guards in opposite directions.   
  
You stand completely still, back pressed flat against the wall while you wait those few, agonizingly slow seconds before the sharp snaps of the firecrackers ring out into the night startling everyone but you. “Gogogogogogo!” Your voice is just over a whisper and your already half way out from behind the stack of metal barrels you were hiding behind. Karkat’s slow on the uptake but when you glance to your right you can see him barreling towards the distracted, and somewhat panicked guard, sickles raised.   
  
You flash-step behind the guard you said you’d ‘take care of’ while quickly equipping your (not shitty) sword. He has his _gigantic fucking_ battle axe at the ready while he looks around into the darkness in front of him, and you hope to whatever troll jegus deity, or _all_ of them, that he doesn’t fucking turn around. You use the momentum from your sprint to push off the wall behind him and then bring your blade down against the back of his thick neck because holy _fuck_ the blade of his axe is as nearly as long as you are tall and you really don’t want to have to deal with it _ever_.   
  
The instant your blade connects with his neck time seems to slow down on you for a moment (if only to make sure you don’t miss anything). The large troll --whom you decide to name Tralf-- turns, his eyes narrowed and his hands tightening on the grip of his axe, to look at you as you land. Almost as soon as your feet touch the ground his elbow connects with your sternum, knocking your breath from your lungs with a sharp grunt and you’re sent flying backwards into the heavy metal door of the warehouse, which rattles with the blow. It takes you half a second to pull in a breath and your eyes widen a little behind your shades before you’re ducking out of the way of Tralf’s axe blade as it comes at you.  
  
When you glance up at Tralf’s neck you notice that you did nothing more than cut halfway through the thick vein there and chop off half of his ridiculous hair-do. Tralf is bleeding out and still fighting as though nothing’s wrong. Figures. Of course you’d get the thickest, most hairiest motherfucker on the planet; like some mutated chewbacca or some shit. He’s having a bit of difficulty pulling his axe out of the door  and you take the chance to glance toward the series of clicks, growls, and hisses --you always thought they sounded more like ally cats when they fought than vicious humanoid creatures-- that you can hear in the distance, knowing that it’s Karkat fighting against ‘his’ troll.  
  
Before you can pick out anything more than a few, quick and blurred movements, Tralf is coming at you again. He’s using the momentum from pulling his axe from the door, coupled with his ridiculous strength, to force you to dodge his incoming attack. You quickly bring your sword up, grabbing it with both hands and brace for the blow. You might have been able to manage a flash-step out of the way, but you might have also managed to walk right into another blow to the chest. This was at least a little less painful.  
  
The axe hits your blade hard, a few sparks flying between them, and you’re sure your sword chipped. You’re forced back, sneakers sliding against the asphalt beneath you and he laughs. “You really think you can take me down, you fucking, little pip-squeak?” And then he pushes his entire weight against his axe, pushing you back even farther.  
  
“Fuckthisshit. I knew I should have let the dumpass take your gigantic, fugly-ass, ‘alf. You like to eat cats, right?” Tralf clicks at you, the sound much lower in pitch than Karkat’s --an alligator mating call to Karkat’s cicada-swallowing cat. Obviously he didn’t like your question, but fuck, Bro would have totally dug the irony of it; he was the one who always made you watch those old, shitty sitcoms.   
  
You grunt when you’re forced down, your knee slamming into the ground just so you can keep the blade of the axe from connecting with your face. Before you’re able to push yourself back up onto your feet, Tralf practically throws himself against his weapon which forces the edges of them to slide against one another. Of course this means that his axe is now farther away from where you can exert the most of your own force with your blade, and because of this his axe slowly descends upon your shoulder, your blade forced back by the weight of it _and_ him until it touches you.   
  
The moment blood is drawn Tralf smiles, the expression looking somewhat like the Cheshire cat’s, except filled with broken razorblades, rusty daggers, and a few other things you’re sure you saw in one of Bro’s ‘Medieval Torture Devices’ books that you _don’t_ want to think about right now.   
  
“ _Fuck_.”  
  
The pain doesn’t really register, just the sound of your skin tearing and the heat of your blood when it runs over the edges of the wound and into the fabric of your shirt.   
  
You do the only thing you’re able to, even if it makes the wound on your shoulder worse. You push forward suddenly and then drop down so you’re kissing the asphalt. This time pain shoots through your shoulder with how deep the edge of the axe digs into your muscle. Tralf stumbles forward a few steps, which is exactly what you wanted, and it gives you more than enough time to launch yourself back up onto your feet, turn your blade over in your hands, and flash-step up to him. You run your sword through his chest before he can counter. A second later he starts coughing up a river of green blood.  
  
His laugh rumbles through the area, vibrating even the ground beneath your feet.   
  
You exchange a few more quick blows once your sword is forcibly removed from his body when he pushes you away from him. And then you’re stumbling backwards after he headbutts you. You blink a few times and lightly shake your head to try and get the world to stop spinning around you. When the world finally stops tilting for you Tralf is  already charging at you again. This time you’re ready for him. Your fling your sword up in a broad arc, catching him across the cheek. You then complete the rotation you started by spinning on the balls of your feet, sword extended. You feel your blade as it slices through skin, muscle, and bone and and when you stop there’s an arm twitching at your feet.   
  
Tralf rounds on you flailing his axe out of pain and anger. You duck, spin, and then flash-step out of his clumsy swings until you’re right where you need to be. Before he can blink again you embed your sword in his skull. His body stiffens above you, a few incoherent syllables tumbling from his lips before his weight succumbs to gravity. You quickly remove your sword and he blinks at you one final time before his dead weight hits the ground, the axe clattering to the pavement beside him.  
  
A distorted screech pierces the air to your left and you jerk your head up, eyes scanning the darkness through your shades for the source of the abrupt sound. Without another thought to the troll you just killed, you turn and start walking in the direction of the screech. Once the two bodies you were expecting to be there come into view you ready your sword just in case, your eyes locked onto the one on its knees.  
  
When you step closer you can clearly see Karkat standing over the guard, their clothes covered in teal blood with bright red smudges here and there. Karkat’s chest is heaving and he’s just staring down at the troll that  he just killed. Your eyes trickle down from Karkat’s face to the other troll. It seems as though Karkat managed to catch the guy in the throat with both of his sickles and then ripped them to either side, tearing the troll’s esophagus wide open as well slicing through the majority of the muscles and veins in his neck.  
  
Well that explained that weird screeching sound you just heard.   
  
“I didn’t know ya’ had it in you, Karkles.”   
  
“Fuck you, you worthless piece of rancid horseshit.” He turns to look at you as he jerks his weapons from the corpse which completes the half-decapitation with a wet tearing sound. The trolls head falls back, still attached by a thick flap of skin, before the body crumples forward just in front of  Karkat’s feet.   
  
“I’m flattered, sugar-pie, but we should get goin’ inside.” You shift forward on your feet, the hand holding your sword tightening around the grip. Karkat clicks at you again, his lips slightly parted and eyes narrowed as he takes a step toward you. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck and arms and your muscles prepare for some kind of physical retaliation, but he turns away from you a second later and heads for the door right in front of you both.   
  
You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and follow him inside.


	4. ==> Investigate the warehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looked over this one myself as well, hopefully there's nothing too horrid going on. I'm passing out atm |D so I apologize for any tag fuck-ups or shitty editing. haha the next chapter starts some good stuff! |D (which is almost complete, hence why this is late to being posted! Sorry about that guys!

 

The moment you walk through the door to the warehouse your muscles tense instinctively preparing you for the unexpected. The air is stirring but there’s not a single sound other than the light scuff of yours and Karkat’s sneakers against the concrete coupled with the gentle lapping of the water against the dock. It’s _too_ fucking quiet.  
  
“It’s like a goddamned zombie apocalypse.” You whisper mostly to yourself but you know Karkat can hear you with the way his pointed ears twitch toward you when they pick up the sound of your voice. The presence of blood is pungent in the air, even to your nose. But you’re not sure if it’s wafting off of you and Karkat or if it’s actually coming from inside the building. “Feels like Dawn of the Dead in here. Some motherfucker’s just gonna jump the fuck out at us li-”   
  
Your thoughts are stopped in their tracks when Karkat’s low clicking settles over your skin, instantly causing goosebumps to rise again. The sound is lower in pitch than what you’re used to, rolling deep inside his chest, almost like sonar. You glance over at him before quickly darting your eyes around the area, looking for any type of moment or clue that something or someone is about to ambush you but there’s nothing.   
  
For a second you swear you hear a dull whir but the sound of it is so quiet you’re not sure if you’re just hearing a boat somewhere far off outside of the building.  
  
And then just like that you’re being tackled to the ground. Your shades are knocked off and they skid across the floor as Karkat lands on top of you. The crates that you were just standing next to, which were blocking the majority of your view of the inside of the warehouse are now exploding above you, splintering into thousands of pieces with no care taken for whatever is or was inside of them. Shattered wood and shredded paper bits are raining down around you like confetti from the constant spray of bullets from what sounds like a fucking mini-gun to you.  
  
Karkat is heavy and sold, his body flush against yours, chest heaving. The sound of his anger is reverberating through you with how tightly you’re pressed together and you realize that he just _saved_ you. He pushes himself up just enough to look you in the eyes and you swear you can see something flash in them before his voice penetrates the air between you.   
  
“You’re fucking welcome, you ignorant fuck-tool.”   
  
And then he’s shifting, sliding, against you, reaching up over your head for his sickles, which had slipped from his hands when he landed on top of you. A second later when a small surge of heat washes over you, you snap out of the sheer surprise of the fact that _Karkat_ just _saved_ your ass and shove at him with both hands, momentarily forgetting that there’s still bullets whizzing by overhead.  
  
“Yeah yeah; now get your fat ass off me, princess. If you wanted some you could at least wait until we’re outta this mess, you don’t gotta jump me right here. Damn.” You glance up again when he shifts back down, and you find yourself nose to nose with him, his breath washing hotly over your lightly freckled cheeks.  
  
You tilt your head back in a quick motion, and intentionally brushing your nose against his in a silent taunt of: ‘bring it’. He growls, bearing his teeth at you, red eyes narrowed and angry; but so are yours. “And I swear to fuckin’ god; if there’s one mother _fuckin_ ’ scratch on my shades, your ass has had it.” You’re not even fucking kidding with this one. Those are the _exact_ pair of shades that Egbert gave you for your thirteenth birthday, and you have no fucking clue what you’d do without them. You don’t even want to begin to think about it.  
  
“I don’t give a flying _fuck_ about your fucking pansy-ass glasses.”  
  
You buck your hips and knock him off balance since he’s still sitting on you, and shove at him. He rolls with it, falling off of you and ducking behind one of the metal barrels that are close by. You quickly roll onto your stomach and grab your sword. You then look around for your shades. It takes a second but you spot them not too far away, but there’s no way you can get to them without being shot. “ _Fuck_.” You glance to the side and spot Karkat quickly equipping his set of Beretta’s, his sickles already back in his strife specibus.  
  
You scowl, and then, launching yourself up on to your hands, you twist your hips, sweep your legs forward and around, in a quick break-dancing move, so that you’re able to land on the balls of your feet and spin with the momentum. You make another half-circle and then duck forward onto your shoulder and roll towards the closest object that offers you cover.   
  
When you’re back on your feet you’re crouched behind a metal barrel a few feet away from Karkat and your shades are just out of reach. You take a moment to equip one of your Colt .45’s, your sword quickly being forced back into your strife specibus. You would pull out one of the rifles Harley gave you but you don’t have enough room to safely maneuver that kind of fire power at the moment in this small area. All you need is a clearing in the gunfire and you’d be able to slip over there and take them out with your katana.  
  
You shift so that you can peek out from behind the barrel, your eyes narrowed, safety off. When the bullets suddenly stop you lean out just enough to spot the enemys you were looking for. There’s four trolls and two really large guys on the other side of the building that you can see from here, possibly more that you can’t see. There’s also a boat tied to their side of the dock just inside the warehouse. A few bullets hit the barrel you’re ducked behind and you’re forced to take cover once more so that you’re not hit by a stray bullet. The good news is, it seems as though their gunman doesn’t know how to aim.  
  
Cursing under your breath anyway, you glance over at Karkat who’s looking at you somewhat expectantly. You pull in a deep breath. You don’t really have time to waste and the worried look in Karkat’s eyes is making you a little uncomfortable. You’re not used to any emotions of his being directed at you other than anger or annoyance. With a small nod you shift on your feet, readying yourself to return fire.  
  
Once he returns the nod you both quickly lean far enough to the side, and release a small spray of bullets which forces them to take cover. You take this opportunity to flash-step to the side, grab your shades, and then flash-step forward, ducking behind another barrel, this one just in front of Karkat’s position.   
  
“What the _fuck_ are you doing, Strider?!” Karkat’s voice carries over the gunfire. You slip on your shades as he peeks around his barrel at you. “Really? Really!?” You smirk. “I’m going to fucking break your ugly face in so you can’t wear those dumb, cheap-as-shit glasses anymore!” He ducks back behind the barrel to reload after firing off the last few rounds in his clips.   
  
“I’d like to see you try, _Vantas_!” you shout back, amusement clear in your tone.   
  
The sudden jump-starting of an engine beside you covers up whatever nonsense that Karkat shouted back at you. Your head snaps to the left just in time to see one of the male trolls tossing a rope towards the dock, his horns barely sticking up over the edge of the boat, you assume to keep himself from getting hit by stray bullets. You turn to look over your shoulder and notice that there’s only four enemies left on the dock. “ _Fuck!_ ”   
  
“ _What?!_ ”  
  
“They’re on the fucking boat!”  
  
“ _ **What?!**_ ” Karkat’s voice cracks and before you can react otherwise, he’s standing, firing right at the them and not giving two shits if he gets hit. Obviously he didn’t hear you over all of the gunfire.  
  
“ _Shiit!_ ” You turn and start firing at the enemy as well.   
  
Two of your rounds hit one of them in the chest, the man instantly stumbling back into the wall behind him and sliding down it. You shift forward, still firing and manage to another in the arm. One of Karkat’s rounds also hits this guy in the neck and he crumples to the ground faster than you can say ‘zetis lepidus’.   
  
You toss your gun back into your strife specibus while simultaneously equipping your sword. Without another thought you run straight towards the boat, leaping off the dock and landing on the side. Your sneakers slip against the smooth fibreglass and before you can catch your footing one of the trolls on the boat knocks your feet out from under you. Your back slams against the floor of the boat, your sword clattering beside you, just past the tips of your fingers.   
  
When you roll onto your side, out of the way of the foot coming down toward your chest, your breath hitches in your throat. You quickly scan the two bodies you rolled onto and then release a soft sigh in relief as soon as you notice Tavros’s eyebrows curl upwards --he looks terrified. His eyes quickly dart from your face to up over your head. Sollux moves beside him a second later --he looks annoyed, but still scared as well-- and kicks the guy in the stomach who was just about to hit you in the back of the head.  
  
You quickly scramble to your feet, deciding that you wasted enough time in making sure that they were _not_ dead, and pick up your sword just in time to block the scythe which was headed for your neck. You manage to knock the troll back with the sudden force of your sword.  
  
“Hey! Dipshit!” You shout, rounding on the second troll when she lunges toward you with a set of sais in her hands.   
  
“What the fuck do yo-” Karkat grunts when a bullet grazes his shoulder, blood flying everywhere despite the fact that it’s not a penetrating shot. “ _Fuck!_ ”  
  
You kick the woman in the stomach when she lunges at you again, sending her stumbling back. “They’re on the boat!” You take a blow to the side of your head a second later from the male troll.  
  
Before you can completely lose your balance, the hair on the back of your head is yanked back roughly and you’re pulled upright again. You can feel the warm trickle of blood rolling down the side of your face.  
  
“You shouldn’t turn your back on an opponent.” Her voice is a low rumble against your skin, “such a shame too, you’re handsome; _for a human_.” Then there’s a rough tongue sliding along the length of your ear lobe a second later and you jerk away, not caring that the sudden movement causes one of her sais to rip your shirt, it’s already fucking ruined. You flash-step behind her and shove her forward with all your strength.   
  
When she stumbles into the male troll who shoves her to the side. She slams into the steering wheel of the boat and lands on the floor. He rushes toward you and you throw your foot up, kicking him in the stomach hard. He doubles over, losing his balance; which you so oh-so-helpfully decide to aid him in _not_ getting back.  
  
You’re beside him in a second, your foot catching him behind the knee and he tips over the edge of the boat. Though, before he can splash down into the water, he somehow manages to yank you with him. And then _you’re_ tumbling over the side of the boat as well, headed right for where the blades are spinning in the water. Luckily for you, you have just enough time to roll in mid-air, righting yourself. You quickly place your feet on his chest, and flash step to the dock where Karkat is currently fighting against the only troll that’s left. Well at least the only one that’s left on the docks.   
  
You spin on the balls of your feet when the sound of the boat’s motor suddenly speeds up, and you watch in silent horror as the female troll is quickly pulling further away from the dock, taking Sollux and Tavros with her.  
  
“Fuck!” There’s too much space between you and the boat now for you to make it over to it again, even if you had a running start, and there’s not another boat anywhere close to where you are for you to steal to even think about giving chase. Knowing that you’re just going to have to give up for now, you turn back to fight that’s happening behind you just in time to see Karkat get knocked back into the brick wall behind him. The large troll turns, fixing his eyes on you, and you instantly tense, readying for whatever the fuck he’s going to do.  
  
You decide that that was probably his first mistake, granted, there was no way for him to know that you’re better at close combat that your ‘partner’. He lunges at you and you easily dodge, spinning on your toes then landing a kick to his lower back. He stumbles forward, nearly toppling over when you hit him in the back of the knee, but manages to catch himself at the last second. Growling at you, he reaches down and grabs one of Karkat’s sickles that he had forced him to drop, and turns on you again.   
  
This time you don’t get to dodge out of the way, but you do block the sharp upwards sweep of the sickle with your sword. The metal clashes and you force him to swing his arm around in a wide circle, which allows you to roll your blade around the upper end of the weapon and force it from his hand, throwing it somewhere behind you. At this he lunges forward again, throwing a heavy punch which connects with your left side. Your sword pierces through his right shoulder at the same time. You cough, pain exploding up your side, and when you glance to the right you catch a glimpse of the troll you had knocked off the boat climbing onto the dock. Luckily, Karkat seems to notice him too since he’s already running at the troll, clicking loudly.   
  
Your momentary distraction doesn’t go without some kind of punishment, since you find yourself flying backwards a second later, the air knocked out of you again. You land hard on your right side, your shades slipping off one ear and clinging to the tip of your nose. You turn your eyes to the large troll who’s laughing at you while pulling your sword from his shoulder and dropping it on the ground beside his feet.   
  
Your lips twitch up. That was his second mistake.  
  
You quickly right your shades, but you stay lying half sprawled on the ground --let him think that you’re down-- while he’s stalking toward you. You both turn when there’s a loud crack and a screech not too far away beside you and you use this opportunity to flash-step behind him and grab your sword off the ground. It’s covered with his cerulean blood (as well as the green from the guy outside) and you flip it over in your hand to throw some of it off, which spatters onto the ground wetly.  
  
He turns to face you again, his pointed teeth grinding together in agitation. He obviously didn’t expect it to be this difficult to fight you. You cock a brow upwards and lift your hand, fingers curled toward you, you then motion him forward with a small wave. He shifts on his feet, cracking his knuckles.   
  
“You’re gonna regret bein’ so cocky, kid.” He darts forward and you spin, grabbing the hilt of your sword with both hands and slice through his side, hitting bone. His hand instinctively darts up to cover the wound and he releases a deep shout, slumping over.   
  
“I’m not really feelin’ any regret over here. Kinda feelin’ a little smug actually.” You shift on your feet, then glance to the side when you see Karkat stalking up behind the large troll in a wide arc. That would make it this guy’s third mistake; turning his back on Karkat. “Because I know something that you don’t.”  
  
“And what’s that?” He practically spits the question at you.   
  
You grin. This was too easy. “That I’m not left handed.” You switch your sword to your right hand, though really there wasn’t much of a need to since by the time the guy is running forward Karkat’s leaping at his back, his sickle instantly digging into the flesh of the trolls neck and tearing it back. You rush forward anyway and assist Karkat by jamming your sword up through this guy’s fourth and fifth ribs, straight into the heart.   
  
His large hands start pawing at the air, reaching out for anything they can grab onto.  He manages to grab you around the middle, claws digging into your skin, tearing your shirt. He releases a few thick, wet coughs, which causes blood to spill out over his lips and land on you. You look up, glaring at Karkat who is tugging on his sickle, ripping muscles and veins in the process of trying to dislodge it. You pull your sword back as soon as the troll's hand goes limp against you, his weight teetering forward. You definitely don’t want to be under him when he falls.  
  
Karkat lets out a small shout of frustration, the sound echoing through his small body before he manages to pull his weapon free just as the large troll slams against the cement, face first. And there’s Karkat standing on his back like he just killed this guy like some trophy. His chest heaving heavily, his hand tightening around the grip of his weapon, unoccupied hand balling into an even tighter fist. Bright red eyes quickly dart up to regard you, practically glowing in this low light and there’s something in them that sends a chill down your spine.   
  
You straighten, tightening your hold on the hilt of your sword. You barely have enough time to react when he leaps at you, sickle raised.


	5. ==> Strife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! Chapter 5! Also, omg, I apologize that this one took so long, had so much to do! And then I had to re-write this twice D| But now all is good (hopefully!) I spend all day editing after errands, so hopefully there's nothing too horrendous going on with the spelling/grammar. Also, the next chapter is technically a stand alone, as it could be left out of the fic and it'd still make sense, but I'm going to include it anyway, but it's very angsty (You get to find out about John |D) so it might be more than a few days before it pops up D: and I'm sorry for that! Hopefully this hotness makes up for it! :D Thank you for being so patient with me! OH! Also this is NSFW! |D

“The _fuck_ is your problem?” You smack Karkat in the side of the head with the pommel of your sword and push him off of you. You don’t want to hurt him since you’re both already injured, despite how much you want to right now and in the past. Mostly, you two need to get out of here before anyone shows up, ‘good’ or ‘bad’. You roll over and jump back onto your feet.

“ _You_ are my _**fucking**_ problem!” His voice is a rumble in the back of his throat, the words low and guttural, almost unable to be made out among the sharp clicks and hissing. His pointed ears twitch before they lay back against his head and he lunges at you again. You flash-step out of the way, but not entirely. He manages to grab your wrist, which he twists sharply in his hand, his claws digging into your skin and tearing it. You’re actually surprised at how fast he is when he’s really trying to be, but you were only halfhearted about it, otherwise he wouldn’t have had the chance to grab you. 

“The _fuck_ did I do?” you ask, wincing as little as possible while you try and tug your arm free from his hold. You don’t want to let him know that he’s getting to you.

He pulls you closer while he steps forward, getting right up in your face. “Why didn’t you stay on the boat?!” He shoves at you, his sickle scraping along the wound in your shoulder. “You could have saved them right then!” The tip of the blade sinks a little deeper, forcing a soft seethe to slip past your lips.

You throw your head forward and head-butt him, which really wasn’t the best idea now that your suddenly reminded of how much harder his skull is than yours. Your shades are tossed down to the tip of your nose and you’re glaring at him over top of them, head pounding from the force of the blow. “What good would it have done for me to be on the fucking boat with them?” 

A second later you can’t find the breath to continue speaking and you just know he cracked rib with one of his fucking little nubby ass horns as soon as he pulls his head away from your chest. You stumble back a few steps, your hand pressed against the spot where his horns collided with your ribcage and your pulling in a thick gasp of air. “There was nowhere to go!” You’re shouting now, your voice breathless while you pull in another lungful of air. You take the time to push your shades back up to the bridge of your nose. 

He rushes forward again, head down. You flash-step to the side and bring the pommel of your hilt down against the back of his head. He stumbles forward. “I’m not about to let myself be captured _with_ them and leave _you_ behind to save my ass by yourself. If I remember right, which I do, you were _begging_ for me to come with you. You wouldn’t have even made it this far if it weren’t for _me_.” You shift on your feet, eyes taking in every movement Karkat makes while you leave him no room to interject with how fast the words are tumbling out of your mouth. “You were over there having your dumpass handed to you like some preschooler on the playground before I distracted that mutated dip-shit with my superior skills!”

“Right! Because I _didn’t_ just save your gangrenous _inbred_ , load-chute from that very same dip-shit!” Karkat rushes at you again, and you let him, though not without blocking his sickle when it comes dangerously close to slashing you across the stomach. 

“Oh, that’s really insulting coming from _you_. Don’t you come from a incestuous pool of toxic sludge and are shat out by a fat-ass, brood-mother?” You quickly turn your wrist in a wide, curved movement, your sword follows the arc and forces Karkat to go along with it as well. Except he can’t without twisting his arm at a weird angle and he’s pushed to let go of his weapon, which you knock to the side with a flick of your wrist. 

You grab the front of his shirt in your fist a second later, yanking him up onto his toes, “I’m surprised you’re not a bio-fucking-hazard.” And then you shove him away.

He stumbles back but not before he grabs your sleeve, tearing it and the skin of your arm, with his claws, and yanks you back with him. There’s a brief moment in which you could swear that you see something flash through his eyes just before they dilate considerably more than what they already were. It sends a shiver up your spine and the sound that erupts past Karkat’s lips causes the hairs on the back of your neck and your arms to stand up on end. It’s a mixture of what you can only describe as the sound of air leaving a tire, a lion growling while chewing on bones, and an angry rattlesnake. Its so far past inhuman (or alien) that you’re not entirely sure that Karkat hasn’t been suddenly possessed by some demonic-alien force, or worse, a horrorterror. 

While your mind is stuck on ‘Holy fuck. What the shit was that sound?’, Karkat manages to gain the upper hand as soon as his back slams into the brick wall. He turns your combined momentum against you, throwing your weight to the side, his foot already hooked behind your ankle, and forcing you to lose _your_ balance. Your instincts kick in and you reach forward to level yourself out. You end up grabbing his shirt instead of anything solid, and pull him with _you_. 

When your back slams against the wall, the air is ejected from your lungs and your eyes close, brows knitting together because there’s a fucking bolt now jammed against your shoulder blade. While the pain from how hard you were forced back against the wall (and bolt) disperses throughout your body, you process everything else that’s rushing through you at the moment. You’re pinned, Karkat has his forearm firmly pressed across your collarbone, holding you down; his other hand is curled around your unoccupied hand, which is keeping you from retaliating with your sword.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re looking over the rims of your shades directly into Karkat’s semi-glazed over ones. His lips are curled back, exposing his sharp-ass teeth, his claws digging farther into your skin. His bulkier muscles keep you in place for the most part, winning against your lithe frame. You’re built for speed, Karkat is built for power.

“I fucking hate you, you rancid piece of degenerating nook excrement.” His voice is just over a whisper and you can feel it as it crawls over your skin while his muffled clicks push their way into your body.

“Yeah, well, feelin’s _fuckin’_ mutual,” You lean down so that your right up in his face, your eyes not leaving his. You don’t even blink. “you putrid, frivolous, dumpass.” 

Karkat’s pupils suddenly do this weird flexing thing where they shrink in and his entire iris is gigantic and glowing red and then his pupil spreads out again, like a black hole swallowing the color of his eyes. The rumble that rolls through his chest reverberates in yours; which is an odd feeling especially with how the rest of your body is already reacting to his. It starts just above your stomach behind your ribs, this thick, heady warmth, which then quickly begins to echo outwards, moving along your arms and legs.

Your chest is heaving and you push forward, releasing a growl of frustration with how he’s still got you pinned. You’re nose to nose, he’s on his toes and your slouched to make up the difference in your heights, your feet just past his. 

You twist his shirt in your fist, your other hand pushing against his hold. “Let. Me. Go. You ignorant fuck-smear. I swear to fucking god I will lay waste to your ass. It’ll be mother fuckin’ Chernobyl up in here if you don-” 

Your breath is suddenly stolen from your lungs, the words plucked right off your tongue, broken by lips and sharp teeth pressed bruisingly against yours.

Your entire body stiffens at the contact, your mind screeching to a halt in the middle of a bridge between ‘get the fuck off’ and ‘get your ass over here’. Your body decides to continue on for you though, leaving your mind behind to wonder why the _fuck_ you’re kissing him back a second later. 

The kiss is brutal. His teeth are like small, dulled razors, his lips rough, against yours. And the second that he feels you push back against him, the clicking in the back of his throat gets louder, his entire body now vibrating with the sound. You tug him up with the fist you have in his shirt. A short, seethe seeps out from the corner of your lips when his teeth scrape and catch the lower one between them, the skin tearing like tissue paper and flooding your mouth with blood.

You tug at his hold on your other wrist again and he gives. Your sword clatters to the floor beside your feet and your free hand shoots up to tangle itself in the hair on the back of Karkat’s head and you tug. His hair softer than you had expected, but it’s thick and somewhat coarse against your fingers. You untangle your fingers from his shirt only to drag your fingers down the length of his torso, nails pulling at the skin beneath.

He _hisses_ against your mouth, the sound rolling straight to your groin. You tug on his hair and his hands shoot up, one hand quickly mimicking the one on the back of his head, the other curling against your neck and applying pressure at the base of your throat. Your mind quickly jumps to the thought that he’s going to choke you, but then instantly changes it’s mind when the pressure sends another heavy wave of blood southward. You rock against him, your bodies suddenly flush together.

The need for air forces you back a moment later, your eyes peeking open just enough to see Karkat’s face up close. His eyes stay closed and you realize that this is affecting him just as much as it is affecting you, if not more so. 

You close the distance between the two of you again a second later. You suck Karkat’s lower lip into your mouth and bite down on it, your canines digging into the tougher skin. You taste his blood as second later, at least, you assume is blood since it doesn’t taste anything like yours, and you smirk against Karkat’s lips, pleased that you personally drew blood on him.

The clicks in the back of his throat abruptly start to curl into something else, something that sounds more like a deep pur, a guttural sound that’s low in his chest. He reciprocates by roughly yanking your hair that’s in his fist. _Fuck!_ You swallow around the moan that suddenly jumped up in your throat and instead release a rough grunt and force the air in your lungs out through your nostrils.

Karkat doesn’t seem to like the fact that you stunted the sounds that you were about to make that _he_ had been the cause of, because he’s clicking again and you can feel his nails tearing through the flesh just above the collar of your shirt. Its a good thing it’s already ruined otherwise you’d be pissed. You return the tug, and pull Karkat’s head back, your teeth scraping along the softer skin of the inside of his lip before you let it go.

He looks up at you finally, his pupils wide and the clearly annoyed furrow to his thick brows lets you know that he doesn’t like you being in control. Not one little bit. The pressure increases on your throat and his claws dig into your scalp. One side of his lip curls up with the growl that’s bubbling deeply in his throat. The clicks accompanying it are sharp and high pitched, his nostrils flare with his heavy breaths.

Neither of you say anything for a few _long_ seconds, leaving only the sound of the rough inhale and exhale of air to stir the air between you.

You swallow thickly and his breathing pauses for a split-second, which is the only warning that you get before he bodily launches himself at you, slamming you back against the wall completely and your shades clatter to the ground beside your sword. Your shoulders and hips take the brunt of the blow, your head protected by Karkat’s hand in your hair. The pain is fleeting though, pushed through you swiftly when Karkat forces himself between your legs and grinds his hips wantonly against yours.

The sudden friction against your cock elicits a groan to slip out of your mouth. Teeth and lips descend upon your neck a moment later, drawing the sound of it out, and Karkat forces it louder by yanking your hair, pulling your head back. You grit your teeth, annoyed that something so simple causes you to pulse against the confines of your boxer-briefs.

Apparently your annoyance appeases Karkat because he groans against your skin, hesitating for the briefest of moments his own heated movements. His tongue presses hotly against your jugular before teeth sink into the flesh around it and your hips buck up, colliding vigorously with Karkat’s. Your voice catches in your throat, the sound that ends up leaving you mouth is somewhere between a muffed shout and a moan, especially with how he keeps _tugging on your hair_. Your fingers curl with the pleasure, digging into the flesh of his scalp and tearing it. Your other hand finds purchase on Karkat’s side and you pull him to you, your nails digging into the small strip of exposed skin, and you grind your hips together.

You close your eyes, brows knitting up while Karkat continues to rut roughly against you, his lips and teeth tugging at your skin in just the right places and leaving wounds behind; and all you can do is try to _breathe_. Everything he’s doing is pumping straight to your groin, your cock throbbing angrily in response. God fucking _shiiit_ , you want more. 

Any chance you had at catching your breath is stolen from you a second later when Karkat’s lips are smashed against yours again. His hands paw at your chest, brushing past a nipple through your shirt and your back arches off the wall with a groan. His hands continue lower until he’s palming you through your jeans. Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes snap open, and your fingers curl into the skin beneath them. This only makes him press down harder and holy _fuck_. You _**need**_ more.

This time you let your eyes slip closed and you rock into his palm, but the heavy pressure is already gone. You crack open one eye, glance down the length of your pressed bodies, and see him quickly attempting to unfasten his own jeans. You slide your hand towards his stomach to help but he swats it away, only to grab your wrist and slam it back against the wall beside your head.

He pulls back from the kiss enough to glare at you, his chest heaving, long enough to let you know that he’s got it, he doesn’t want your fucking help. A snarl rips through the air and his lips are against yours once again, his teeth tugging at your softer skin. He releases your hand, and you quickly return it to where it was on his hip. He catches the side of your lower lip on his teeth and tears the wound already there open again. You groan and he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. When you make to fight back against him, your hands pushing at his hips, he grinds his thigh against your cock again and you _moan_ , your fingers curling into the material of his shirt.

You’re easily losing your patience with this. He’s pissing you the fuck off (and you’re so hard you don’t think you could be harder) and you’re not really able to do much about it from where you’re positioned. You push forward anyway, taking the brunt of his sharp teeth against your mouth and you quickly slide your hands to the hem of his jeans and yank them down as well as his boxers.

This time he seethes when the cold air hits his bare skin and you grin against his mouth. He growls at you before your jeans and boxer-briefs are suddenly yanked down as well. Not as low as Karkat’s, but it’s just enough so that your cock springs free from its confines.

Before either of you can pull in another staggering breath, your bodies collide roughly, Karkat’s heated skin against yours. You groan against his lips and he swallows it greedily, the sound mixing with the bubbling purr deep in the back of his throat. You work your hands down his sides, dragging your nails as hard as you can across his leathery skin and he bucks against you. He starts purring again, the sound broken only by the occasional click. You slide your hands around and grab two handfuls of his ass and yank him forward so that he’s completely flush against you. You slide your thigh between his legs and press up.

When he grinds against you again, you can feel something against your inner thigh _wiggle_ , and something moist seep into your pants-leg. It’s enough to give you start, but any thoughts that pop into your head are rocket propelled from your brain when the thick, hot, wet appendage wraps _around_ the base of your cock and squeezes at the same time that Karkat roughly tugs your head back by the hair again.

Of course your mind screeches to a goddamn halt, flips onto a new motherfucking track, and takes off full speed to ‘ _fuck_ -everything-elseville’. Your entire body _shudders_ and you’re unable to stop the heady, unabashed moan that you release as the end of Karkat’s appendage rubs itself along the slit on the head of your cock, while it pulses and tightens around the length of your shaft.

Karkat groans against your skin in response, his fingers curling and uncurling against you and his nails tear into the flesh beneath them. His teeth scrape against your chin, down the front of your throat until he’s latched onto your collar bone, his hips grinding hungrily against yours while you knead the muscles of his ass in your grip. You’re panting sharply, air foreign to your lungs while pleasure burns through your veins.

He tugs at your hair, yanking your head back further and eliciting another deep moan from you. Claws dig deeper into your back, pulling at muscle, kneading it as you’re kneading him. You tug his cheeks roughly apart, your fingers slipping into the valley between them and they brush against something soft and moist. He _convulses_ against you, his tenta- his bulge tightening around your cock. You stiffen when the tip of it pushes _into_ the tip of your erection, the heat that had been pooling in your stomach bursting outwards suddenly.

You drag your hands up his back while you buck against him. You can’t make sense of what’s happening between your pressed hips but you know it feels so _fucking **good**_ that you don’t want to stop. You can’t stop. You _wont_ stop.

Karkat’s purring is steadily growing louder, vibrating against your skin, vibrating your entire body. He pumping you, squeezing you, teasing your tip and you’re teasing him, osculating against him. He bites down on your shoulder, his body trembling.

You quickly pull your nails down his back again, digging into the skin as much as possible, enjoying the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingers. When you reach his ass again you roughly grab each cheek and continue your kneading. This time when your fingers brush against the moist heat between his legs, you rub the pads of your fingers along what you can touch and Karkat stiffens completely.

“Fuuuuuck!” His voice cracks and his body quakes, rocking sharply against yours.

And then he’s pulling away from you just enough so that he can move. His hands are quickly tugging at his pants in a furry of movements and you’re left panting against the wall, your cock aching, dripping out in the open. Your hand instantly drops down to your erection and you continue to pump it, the viscous fluid that Karkat left behind making easy for your fist to slide over your heated skin. You can’t help but let your eyes wander over to Karkat and you finally get a good look at what’s between his legs. Yup. There’s no fucking way you’re _not_ going to call it a tentacle.

He throws his pants down angrily on top of crate to your left and then glares up at you. Your fingers brush over the head of your cock at that same moment and you close eyes to the sensation, your head falling back against the wall. You don’t get to stroke yourself another time before Karkat’s body heat is washing over you again, his lips pressed almost painfully against yours. A hand quickly slides into your hair, tugging it roughly and his other hand curling against your hip, claws nipping at the skin.

You slide your fingers around the tentacle and squeeze your erections together, his instantly wrapping around your shaft and tightening. The tip of his quickly finds yours again and presses against the slit. You clench your fist and Karkat shudders again, his hips thrusting upwards against yours. You do it again, and again, and again; your fist pumping only a little while the end of his tentacle continuously teases the slit while pumping the head of your erection. Karkat keeps biting at your skin, pulling your hair. It only takes a few moments of this before you can feel your orgasm tingling at the edges of your nerves.

You give one final squeeze before Karkat suddenly goes rigid against you, his mouth stilling against yours and you can feel his orgasm hit just before yours does. You can hear what sounds like a torrent of water hitting the concrete between your feet, and it’s loud in your ears. You try not to look, unsure if the visual image of that would allow you to get off or if you’d simply go limp in your hand.. He’s too far gone in his own climax to notice that you continue to pump yourself until you’re spurting thick ribbons of semen between your pressed bodies.

You glance down once your orgasm begins to wear off and notice that the liquid that Karkat expelled is _red_ and running with the decline toward the docks. Yeah, you’re glad that you didn’t look. And even though you think you should be weirded the fuck out by all of this, for some reason you’re not; and you’re not quite sure how you feel about that.

Karkat finally pulls away from you, his eyes meeting yours for a second before darting down to between your bodies while he unwraps himself from around your cock. You watch as the tentacle rolls in on itself and then curls inward, disappearing into Karkat’s body. You try to not give it much thought, but already there’s questions shooting back and forth through your mind.

At least that explains the deal with the buckets.

Karkat’s mumbling to himself while he reaches for his pants and underwear to pull back on. You’re already working on fastening your pants after having tucked yourself into your underwear. You just still for a moment before you bend down and pick up your sword, capchalogue it and your shades, which are surprisingly dry. You slide them into place.

Karkat rounds on you from where he had turned to shimmy his pants on, “This... fuck. Don’t fucking mention-.... _fuck_!” He growls and then points a finger at you. “You tell anyone about this, you insufferable prick, and I’ll fucking _murder_ you in your sleep.” He turns back around for whatever reason.

“Yeah, I’d love to see you try.” You snort bitterly, a smirk tugging at your lips at the ridiculous idea. Didn’t you just hand him his ass here a few minutes ago? Who the fuck does he think he is?

You walk up behind him as he’s tugging up and then fastening his pants, your eyes quickly catch the deep red lines that you left on his skin and you can’t help but gloat inwardly, even if it’s just for a moment. Karkat turns back around, takes one look at you, and then grabs the front of your shirt and smashes your lips together again. You nearly stumble over, but you catch yourself. You push back into the kiss, and now that you’re on your feet you have more leverage, which you use, forcing Karkat back until he’s pinned against the crates behind him.

He breaks the kiss, his cheeks slightly flushed. Your lip is bleeding again. “The fuck? You can’t fucking do that shit!”

“What shit?”

He flails his hands towards you, his brows furrowing down, and a growl rolling up his throat.

Oh you see how it is. Its fine when he’s all riled up and stronger because of the adrenaline, but now that he’s calmed down you can’t exploit the fact that he’s not rage-high. “Like _hell_ I can't. I can fuck it, turn it over, fuck it again, and then shove it down your goddamned throat. Isn’t that what this is all about? I don’t have to play fair because you already hate my guts. Might as well milk it for all it’s worth.” You snort and push at his shoulders before stepping back and shoving your hands into your pockets, heading for the door you two came in.

Before you’re able to take two steps though, you’re barreled over _again_ by an angry, flushed, mass of a dumpass, and you can’t stop laughing the entire way back to your hotel room. 


	6. ==> Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to update! I've had this chapter written for a little while now, but life got in the way of being able to edit it! But yay! Finally managed to. Just um... warning of possibly needing tissues/having your chest ache? : / at least thats the intended effect anyway~ hahaha;;; I hope you guys like the chapter and thank you for being so patient with me! <3 (I'm also unsure when the next chapter will be out!) Also please excuse any typos.
> 
> WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH and heavvvvy DaveJohn in this chapter! 
> 
> (There's a bit of plot pushing at the beginning and end of the chapter for those who don't want to read the DaveJohness --the first three paragraphs and then the 7th from the end is where it starts back again)

You pass out nearly as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It had taken you much longer than you had thought to bandage both yourself and Karkat up. Though Karkat’s complaining and wiggling hadn’t helped speed the process along either. Your wounds had been much deeper than you had expected, while Karkat’s were mostly superficial. He would be mostly healed by morning, you by sometime in the afternoon with your Sopor slime soaked bandages.

That had been one thing that you had discovered, or rather, some scientists had, worked as a sort of ‘super-healing’ salve; mostly because the troll’s skin was much tougher than your own and they were used to sleeping in it, where as human skin is thinner and rarely exposed to the healing properties of the slime. And of course you bandaged yourself second since Karkat wouldn’t shut his mouth until you did. You were nearly passing out sitting on the edge of the tub while you finished wrapping your shoulder.

Of course the slime also had one side effect you wished it didn’t as you’re carried off into a deep, _deep_ , sleep; into a dream that you’ve had many times before but is somehow made much worse by the presence of the slime seeping into your blood. The dream always ends the same. You can never change it no matter how much your heart aches to do so. 

You open your eyes and you’re on a couch, your couch. The TV is on, music floating quietly through your moderately sized apartment, the other occupant no where to be seen. You stretch and throw your feet down to the floor. It’s actually really late and your idly wonder when you fell asleep since you’re still in your clothes, shoes included. 

It takes a minute for the day to come flooding back into your memory and you furrow your brows when you shift forward on the cushion. Really you didn’t see what the big deal was. So you took out some dumb-fuck troll who was pissed off at you because you said something back to him when he demanded you remove yourself from his seat because you are a lower blood color than he was. That’s how this troll shit worked anyway, right? Kill or be killed. 

So you laid that bitch to waste.

It was pretty easy, actually. Little did you know that there was a price on his head or that the troll who had come to the restaurant to claim it was only minutes away from doing so before you had quickly removed said price carrying head off the guy’s shoulders. But hey, you made a wad of cash and managed to land a ‘job’ with the guy who wanted the fucker dead. Money’s money and you were itching for a good activity anyway since there always seems to be a lack of a need for a fucking awesome DJ and a pretty damn good photographer around this city.

You stand up and stretch before heading to the kitchen, your eyes darting over to the fridge where a note that John left you is magnetized to the door. You smirk and shake your head at the dorky emote he drew out on the paper before he signed his name. You open the fridge and pull out the container of apple juice, then head over to the cabinet to get a glass to pour it in.

While reaching up for a glass you pause. Every muscle in your body tenses, your head turns just slightly so that your ear is pointed more directly towards the front door. There’s a subtle scratching sound just behind it, something that you’re not used to hearing, something that’s far to quiet, far to careful, to not arouse your suspicion. 

And of course you’re right because less than a second later the front door to your apartment flies across the room, landing somewhere past the couch and by the time it lands you’ve already ducked down behind the small island counter, your katana in hand. 

“Spread out. Find him.” 

You recognize the voice and you silently berate yourself for being such a fucking moron. Of _course_ the guy who had been out for the bounty on that troll’s head was going to fucking _follow you home_ and take it from you. Just luck enough for you, John isn’t home... though you’re going to have a hell of a time explaining to him why the apartment is fucked up because you already know that half your shit is gonna end up broken.

Chancing a quick glance around the edge of the island, you quickly count how many of the intruders you can see from where you are and then duck back behind the counter when one of the larger guys decides to flip the couch onto its back. Okay, so, there’s only four of them. You can do this. You can take out the muscle first and then handle the smaller guys last. Simple. 

You pull in a deep, steady breath, your eyes drift to the fridge, to the note on it that is right in front of you and that damn stupid, stupid, dumb emote with its colon eyes, bucked teeth and tiny implied grin. Fuck. You can feel your gut sink suddenly and you frown. A wave a dread washes over you and you hate it. At the time this happened you were unsure why, but _now_ you know why, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, while your mind attempts to stop this process. 

But you can’t, because right now you’re asleep. You’re doomed to repeat this night at least every other time you manage to actually sleep.

And so you do, you continue with the next move you made, which was to flash step out from behind the counter and catch the first big guy across the back of the neck, slicing through the skin and muscle easily. He goes down before you land on your feet, his limp body crashes into the television which explodes into sparks and glass shards. 

“You fucking little-” 

You cut him off by lashing out with your blade. The skinny troll is forced to jump back out of the way as to not be hit, and while you’re preoccupied with him the other large man --really, he might as well have been a troll since he was as fucking big as one of them-- grabs you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides before you can flash-step away. 

The ring-leader cackles and quickly moves forward while the third douche bag continues to tear up your apartment. “You know why we’re here,” he starts as you wiggle in the large man’s hold. He tightens his arms around your chest and you cough with the pressure against your ribs and lungs. “Tell me where you put the money and I’ll consider leaving your corpse recognizable.” 

You laugh, though it’s rough and in between coughs. He stares at you funny, one of his brows lifting up higher on his forehead. “You’re really gonna do this, huh? The whole ‘I’m more bad ass than you’ deal? On a fuckin’ kid? You’re really, _actually **that**_ pathetic. Fuck. I’ve seen better shit in a Nic Cage movi-” 

He punches you across the face, your head snaps to the side before he does it again and you instantly taste blood. He waits for you too look back up at him, blood dribbling down your chin from the flood of blood in your mouth before he decides to wail on you. He punches you in the face a few more times before moving onto your exposed torso. You bite down on your lip to keep yourself from releasing any noise which might give this fucker any satisfaction other than a few rough grunts.

“I think I’m going to start by cutting out your fucking tongue you little punk. You think you’re so fucking funny.” As he’s talking he’s reaching into his pocket and pulls out a switch blade a second later. The blade clicks softly when he releases it from inside. He steps closer to you and the large man who’s holding you leans forward so the skinny troll can reach you better, his arms tightening more around your chest, making it harder to breathe.

“Dave?”

Your brain instantly stops all thoughts and every body present in your apartment suddenly turns to look toward the door where you expect to see John appear in a few seconds. You want to yell, shout, scream at John to run, to get the fuck out of here but you can’t. You can only stare at him when he appears in the doorway, his eyes wide, brows furrowed in confusion, and thrash against the hold on you. Your heart cracks again, a slow pain now dripping out and numbing a small part of your chest.

“Um, where the hell is our front doo-… oh!”

And then your eyes meet his through your shades and he freezes, the bag in his hand swinging gently beside him. “Am I interrupting something?”

You don’t get time to answer before the skinny troll rushes toward John and you find that your breath has completely left you with the quick blow to your diaphragm from the guy still holding onto you. 

John’s fast on his feet though, and he’s already got his hammer out, ready to block the small blade from hitting him. You’re thankful that you insisted upon teaching him how to fight better but at the same time you can feel a pulse of pain surround you, your subconscious already knowing what’s going to happen and you’re just a spectator unable to do anything but scream at yourself silently. 

You headbutt the guy holding you, breaking his nose and causing him to instinctively let you go so he can cover his face and wipe at his eyes which are now quickly tearing up. That third troll who had wandered off into your bedroom finally returned and is heading towards John. You flash-step to intervene. He jumps back but not in time for your sword completely miss catching him across the chest. 

The skinny troll suddenly flies back sideways, towards the kitchen and the next thing you know John is standing beside you, smiling at you like the idiot he is. “I never thought I’d see the day that Dave Strider needed help in a fight!” He laughs and fuck you can’t help but let your lips twitch up in a momentary smirk.

“Glad to know you didn’t pussy out on me.” 

“Oh fuck you!” John shoves at your shoulder with his own and you let out a small chuckle. 

“Later dude, I’m kinda busy here, in a middle of a fight and all. Gotta beat down some stupid chump-asses who think they can just blow up people’s front doors and wreck their shit.”

It’s only now that John seems to see the destruction in your shared apartment and he groans. “Aww man, the TV!” 

“Glad you have your priorities straight there, John. Not like I’m injured over here or anything. Or you know, bleeding...” 

“Shut up, Dave.” 

You don’t get time to reply before you’re forced to defend yourself against the large man when he throws himself bodily at you and John. You push John out of the way, he goes stumbling forward, and you go flying backward out of the busted doorway and into the hall. 

“Not so tough now, eh?” The guy laughs and you notice that he’s filed his teeth down into points and his tongue is forked for whatever stupid fucking reason.

“Not so smart now, huh?” You kick upwards, slamming the heal of your foot into his chin and then you roll away as another Dave appears behind him and kicks him in the ass. He shouts and stumbles forward and the Dave disappears. You quickly spring to your feet, hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of your sword, and then dart back into the apartment. You quickly catch movement out of the corner of your eye and you turn your head towards it, readying for an attack. Instead of a troll barreling towards you, you see John smack the troll that he’s been fighting in the side of the head with his hammer before sending him flying out of the window on the other side of the room with a quick, but strong, burst of wind. Considering your apartment is about twenty stories up, you’re positive that guy wont be alive much longer.

John turns around and smiles at you, blood running down the side of his face and neck, dripping down onto the front of his shirt and the carpet. You snort and shake your head a little, pushing your initial thoughts into the back of your mind, before you turn to look toward the kitchen to see where the skinny little fuck-shit went off to.

When you don’t immediately see him, you turn back around to look at John but instead you get tackled from the side by the muscle-headed guy you had knocked out in the hallway. You twist in his grip before you land on your back, _hard_ , and he rears up to sweep one of his large fists down against the side of your head. Your shades go flying off to the side, while his other hand suddenly clamps down on your windpipe. All of this happens in a few, quick seconds before John’s running towards you, his hammer raised, ready to strike the guy in the back of the head to get him off you while you cough, fighting for air. 

You look up at the man, who’s dripping blood on your face, his eyes wide with rage, and you quickly manage flip your sword over in your hand. The edges of your vision are starting to fade to black but you glance to the side of your vision to see what’s keeping John anyway. Your heart stops beating for a second, time slowing down to you when you spot the skinny troll quickly rushing up behind John, one of your extra katanas in his hand. The little fucker had pulled it off the rack hanging in your bedroom. Another one of you appear behind the troll a second later and he tackles the troll to the side just before the troll can stab John in the back. John whips around just as that Dave disappears for a moment in the blur of a flash step before reappearing on top of the troll and throwing angry punches down against his face, John quickly stepping over to help him. You try to pull in a breath of relief but you’re unable to and that’s when you’re reminded of your own predicament.

Turning your attention back to the man practically laying on top of you, you quickly throw your arm up, your sword in line with your forearm, and connect your blade with the flesh of the man’s neck. Blood gushes from the wound, pouring down onto you from the gash a moment later. You were expecting the blood but you are surprised when another blade slides out from the skin on the other side of his neck, heading towards the cut you just made. You realize a moment later that it’s another Dave who is standing behind the man and curring through the muscle and tendons of the man’s neck, forcing him to release his hold on you. You quickly push him to the side with the help of the other you while you cough through the air that suddenly floods your lungs. You’re on your feet a second later, your other self disappearing again once he makes eye contact with you. 

John lets out a sound and you turn to look at him. He seems slightly surprised that you’re on your feet, panting, but doesn’t say anything, only flashes you a goofy grin. Your heart aches again, the air in your lungs searing your your insides. He turns around when a sudden shout sounds from behind him, your attention turning towards it too. Apparently, the troll whom he knocked out the window had held onto the side of the building and climbed back up into your apartment. And he’s running straight for John. Another one of you appear beside John, sword up, ready to fight the troll, and you head toward the confused ring-leader who finally manage to get to his feet, his face covered in blood. He’s jittering around, holding up your extra katana like a bat.

“What’s the matter?” You flash step behind him and push him forward, your anger with all of what has happened finally bubbling over the point of you keeping it in. He stumbles and his face plants into another of your future-selves chests. Your other self pushes him back toward you and then disappears. You furrow your brows, confused why you keep coming and going for only a few seconds at a time but you don’t question it, you know yourself well enough to know that you’re obviously trying to change something if the look in your eyes was any indication. 

It surprises you when the troll suddenly turns the sword back against you but you flash step to the side, the blade only scratching your side and tearing your shirt. You glance up at John who’s holding his own with another of your future selves and then quickly return your attention back to the asshole who orchestrated it all. 

Your heart sinks a little lower in your chest, your stomach turning over when you look the guy in the eyes. You know what’s going to happen and you know that there’s nothing you can do. You remember the look, you remember everything and you want to wake up but you can’t.

So you do the only thing you can, you continue forward.

He narrows his gaze and and glances over your shoulder. A smirk quickly curls onto his lips and he rushes forward, slamming into you with his head down, and you can _hear_ your ribs crack with the force of the blow. His horns pierce your skin, ripping through it while he continues running forward and you collapse onto your knees.

You wheeze, trying to pull in breaths while turning yourself so you can see what’s happening as he continues to run forward, heading toward John. Luckily another of your future selves jumps into the path, taking a sword to the chest and instantly slowly the dude down. You can feel the pain in your own chest, a reminder of it, but you know that your future self did it to buy you some time.

“John!”

Scrambling to your feet, you rush forward despite the pain in your sides, in your head, in your heart, and slam into the troll. He stumbles into your future self who rolls them both to the side, out of your way. You leap forward and bring your sword down on the second troll, slicing deep into his shoulder and chest.

John’s eyes go wide, surprised by your sudden appearance as well as what this horrible nightmare continues to force you to live through every time you fall asleep. 

You swallow thickly, your fingers tingling, throat constricting, the backs of your eyes burning. You can’t do this. You can’t take this right now. You tighten your grip on the hilt of your katana before you’re knocked to the side by a sudden gush of wind. You manage to catch glimpses, flashes of at _least_ twenty of your future selves darting around the room, all of them trying to stop what’s about to happen, what you know is going to happen. _As if they could._ You remember each and every time you jumped back in time. You spent hours, _days_ trying to prevent this, and it still happened. There was no way around it, no stopping it no matter how many times you sacrificed yourself.

You watch in horror, unable to say anything no matter how hard to scream, how hard you thrash. You’re trapped under the dead weight of a troll as John is suddenly impaled on your blade. You can feel your heart catch in your throat, before it shatters into a million pieces which seem to pin you to floor, adding to the weight already on top of you. Blood dribbles out over John’s lower lip when he tries to speak, it runs down his chin and drips silently down onto the floor. 

The troll laughs, the sound high and obnoxious. But he’s cut off from his ‘victory’ when his head is quickly lopped off by a future Dave. There’s tears streaming down his face when he glances at you and its only then that you realize that _you’re_ crying. He disappears before the body of the troll he just killed even goes limp and crumples to the floor. John blinks owlishly and turns to you, his brows curled up, tears welling in his eyes. He’s scared.

You shove at the dead weight on you, _finally_ managing to push the body, your sword, just _everything_ keeping you from him to the side. You move as fast as you can, faster than you felt you ever have in your entire life, to catch John when he finally slumps forward, his legs giving out.

You catch him and stumble with his weight until you’re both on your knees and he’s holding onto your arms with an iron grip. You realize that he knows he’s dying, that he _knows_ that these are his last moments. You try to swallow but you can’t, your voice is pushing up in your throat, your stomach rolling and turning and twisting while your mind is screaming at you. No. No, no, _**nono, nonono. NO!**_

You know there’s nothing you can do. If you pull the sword out, he’ll bleed out, die so much more quickly than if you leave it in and you can’t help but be selfish. You have to say something, you _need_ to. You know you tried, in vain, to save him and you couldn’t. You’re a fucking failure and you want nothing more than for it to be you with a sword sticking through your chest. It’s already killing you, eating away at your heart. When you entered this world and merged with your future-sprite self, you gained all of his memories. He had found John’s dead body, had held onto him while he took his last breaths and now you’re reliving the failure all over again, except there is no alternate you, alternate John. There is no more alpha timeline. This is it. And you failed to keep him safe again. 

John leans forward, coughs, and more blood rolls out past his lips and down his chin and when he looks up at you again he looks sorry. So _fucking **sorry.**_ As if all of this is _his_ fault and not yours. He lifts his hand up to your face, brushing his finger tips over the tip of your nose, your chin. He then lightly slides his fingers along your jaw-line, and then into your hair and your body quakes with the force of your sobs that you can no longer contain. And he’s just so fucking _calm_. Tears are rolling down his face and you reach up to wipe them away with your thumbs, your hands shaking.

And then John leans forward and presses his lips to yours. His blood smears against your chin, drips onto your shirt. And you stop breathing because you don’t want to steal his breath, and you don’t want to jar him away from you with how hard your entire body is shaking right now. You’ve always needed him more than he’s needed you, and it took so fucking much to get past all the shit, to get past all of everything that had been ingrained in you both when you were younger, to be able to openly love him, to hold him, to _have_ him. And now it doesn’t feel like you’ve been together for years. It feels like fucking seconds, miliseconds, nanoseconds. You want more time. You _need_ more time.

He collapses forward against you and you let him pull you both down. You shift him so that he’s laying on your lap and you’re staring down at him, words silently being exchanged between the two of you. He loves you more than anything, and he’s sorry. And you want to trade places with him because you love him so fucking much that you can feel yourself dying with him. You’ve never been so attached to a person since Bro and now John was being taken away from you like he had been, again. You have vivid memories of Bro dying, staring down at him with Davesprite’s eyes, of walking into John’s Denizen’s lair to find his mauled body, blood everywhere, of him gasping for breath while he died, slowly and almost completely alone.

And now you’re covered in John’s blood again and you can’t bring yourself to even pretend that you’re not breaking. 

And he smiles. 

That stupid, dorky, happy smile that tells you that he’ll be okay, that everything is okay. That he doesn’t want you to do something stupid because he knows you’ve already considered it.

And you can’t hold back anymore. Your hands ball into fists in his shirt, and you tug at it, tug at him. Your anger, your frustration, your sadness makes your voice crack with your sobs, “Why did you do that? That was so fucking stupid! It wouldn’t have killed me!” 

His voice is just over a whisper because one of his lungs has collapsed and he’s gasping softly for air. “I... I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want you to... feel another Dave-death. I know how much you hate it.” John laughs, and its raspy, breathless, “Stupid, huh?” He coughs with the effort, blood bubbling up in the back of his throat, into his mouth.

He can’t speak anymore, only look up at you with those blue, blue eyes. 

“ _Goddamnit,_ John.” Your voice cracks again. “Fuck.” 

There’s blurs around you both; past selves, future selves, all moving to try to undo this, to try to fix what happened. Wind is whipping at your face, your clothes. But you already know that you can’t fix this, it can’t be undone. God Tier or not. It’s a Just death --he saved your ass. And it’s fucking stupid. Stupid, stupid, dumb. You’re nothing special. Not like him. Not like Bro had been. You’re not the fucking hero. John is.

John coughs again and your mind freezes where it was. His lips curl up again in a small smile, his oversized front teeth glistening with blood.

And then he stills in your hold, his smile gone. 

Your eyes widen, glued on a tear that slips from the corner of his eye and rolls down the side of his face then onto the skin of your wrist. Its warm and heavy, but it quickly cools. And you’re shaking, convulsing. Tears are streaming down your cheeks. You slam your eyes closed and fall forward, press yourself against him. He’s still so warm.. so fucking _warm_. And you curl your fingers into the cloth of his shirt, against his skin, and just _weep_. 

And then your eyes open. Pain is pushing itself through your body, which is shaking. When you can finally focus your eyes, you’re staring at your hand which is balled into a tight fist in the sheets just past the tip of your nose. The bedding is moist beneath your cheek and you _can’t breathe_. It takes a second for your mind to come back to you, for you to remember where you are, what happened, and that you were only _dreaming_. 

When you do finally remember that you’re in a hotel room, that Karkat is sleeping in the bed beside you, you quickly release your hold of the sheet while you slide your gaze upwards, following the line of his body under the covers on his bed until your looking him right in the face. He’s looking right at you. His pupils are dilated wide in the darkness of the room, and his eyes are glowing dimly. You don’t say anything while you set your jaw and attempt to get your chest to stop heaving, to stop _aching_ , and to get the sobs to stop wracking your body.

He’s just watching you in silence, blinking when he needs to while holding your gaze. You don’t want to look away, you can’t. It would tell him that you’re ashamed, that you’re embarrassed that he saw you. But you’re not. You don’t want him to see too see you as weak, to see the effects of your failure. You wish he hadn’t seen, sure, because you don’t like the fact that he saw you plagued by the pain if your past, that he saw you re-live the most painful memory of your life. The pain is your is yours and yours alone. 

But... there’s something there, in his eyes. Something in the way that Karkat is looking at you that’s holding you where you are; _something_ else other than your own pride that is keeping you from looking away. 

And then he can feel it too... and it scares him. He blinks and his pupils quickly shrink back to a normal width, his irises stop glowing, they only reflect the light sneaking in from outside. He glances away from you for just a moment before his eyes are back on yours, his brows furrowing down. He grunts, scowls, and then rolls over, tugging the blankets up to nearly completely cover his head.

You lay there for a few minutes, listening to him, listening as your own breathing regulates itself out again and you feel as though you can relax. But you don’t. You just untangle yourself from the covers and get up. You don’t glance back, even when you feel his eyes on you as you pass by his bed on the way to the bathroom to take a shower.

In the morning, none of this will have happened. At least you know that you’ll both pretend that it didn’t. And before you close the door completely, you glance up at Karkat, silently thanking him in advance for not saying anything, for not being his usually abhorrent insufferable self. He nods, the motion is so subtle that you almost miss it, and you shut the door before you feel your demeanor give again, fresh tears rolling warmly down your face.


End file.
